


Of Stone

by quartetship



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Gargoyles - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Mild Gore, Multi, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:31:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5859820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How can you find your place<br/>in a city,<br/>in a time,<br/>in a heart of stone?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moonstone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avoidingavoidance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidingavoidance/gifts).



> Thank you to everyone who has supported and encouraged me during the planning and writing stages of this au, and thank YOU for reading it. Hope you enjoy, and be sure to let me know what you think!
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> [Find me on twitter!](twitter.com/_quartetship_/)
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> [Find me on tumblr!](quartetship.tumblr.com)
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> \--

_Awoken with the breath of life_

_To fall beneath no sword or knife_

_Stone by day and flesh by night_

_Only felled by dawn’s first light_

_A secret from the eyes of men_

_Without equal, without kin_

_Blood of lizard, bat and dove_

_Breed hearts of stone, unfit for love_

\--

With its brightly lit center, the steaming heart of a web of tightly wound streets, Sina was a city that seemed alive. It was an almost sentient beast, inhaling and exhaling every generation of humanity that trod upon it. In everything that it had seen, all that it had known in the decades – centuries – that it's buildings had climbed toward the sky, it was a museum that moved, with a perpetually quickening pace. The city was a cloud of ever-rolling smoke, dark even in the light, and yet always illuminated, a neon glow even in the blackest hours of night.

Every corner of Sina was alive. To an outsider, it was almost magical, enough to beckon you in, to wonder at its oddity. To the people who made their home there, though, it was just that. Home.

And sometimes, even that was hard to find.

For Marco Bodt, Sina was the backdrop of a life that never fully found its footing, a race on living pavement, moving faster than his feet could. For Marco, Sina was a workplace, a place to be reminded of everything he needed to be, and still wasn't, yet. For Marco, Sina was where his ex, his daughter, and all of his friends lived, where his entire life was impatiently waiting for him to catch up.

Sina needed to be home.

But first, Marco needed to _find_ a home.

As it was, that frigid winter, he lived over an hour away, dealing with a painfully cold and complicated commute every day, barely worth his time once the cost of gas was figured in. The hospital where he worked as a nurse was a pleasant place to be, but the large, bronze wrapped clock on every waiting room wall only served to remind him of the time he was wasting on his way there and back, day after day. Living so far from where he made his money, Marco couldn't afford for things to go wrong the way most people could; a flat tire or car trouble would mean a missed shift, and getting behind in the grand equation that was balancing his already strained budget.

It wasn't that he didn't have a hand up when he needed it. He had friends he worked with, in particular a young psychologist named Theo that had let Marco bunk on the couch in his office on more than one occasion when the weather had been too nasty for train rides. Really, it wasn't even a hand that he needed; with his salary as it was, _affording_ a place to stay hadn't ever really been a pressing concern. So when his ex had given him an ultimatum – move closer, or see your daughter less – he hadn't hesitated to snap back with acceptance, a promise that he would. But every time there was a listing, it was taken by the time Marco thought to call about it, and he found himself on Theo’s counseling couch for more reasons than one.

He had heard so many people talk about wishing they could get out of the city, but all he wanted was to get in.

Finding a place within a train or cab ride of the hospital didn't seem like it would be a challenge, in such a tightly wound city, stacked heavy with life from corner to corner. And yet, weeks after making the decision – and promising his family and friends that he would soon be in convenient closeness to them – Marco was still walking the halls of his workplace, wishing he could see his home through the massive glass windows that displayed the sprawling skyline of Sina beyond.

In a living city like Sina, finding a place to live was proving to be harder than he had imagined.

\--

“Maybe I'll just sleep in the waiting room when I'm off shift, you know?” Marco shrugged. “We've got enough pillows and blankets here, and hey – free laundry.” Seated across from him – as he usually was, during their shared lunch hour – Theo quirked an eyebrow, head dropping a bit to one side.

“Yeah, but is it worth listening to Fox News on twenty four hour loop on the tv down there?” His tone was teasing, but gently so, like everything about Theo. Marco’s closest friend and confidant, he'd heard more than a little idle chatter about Marco’s desperate need to relocate. Looking back at him with a grimace, Marco shook his head.

“Oh god, you're right. Never mind, that’s not even _worth_ the laundry service.”

Tapping out the tension of the day on the table between them, Marco mindlessly puffed out his cheeks, exhaling with a huff as he let his mind wander. A longer commute would mean choosing between trying to relocate to another hospital, and going half broke paying the difference in gas. He _had_ to find a place to stay before the winter was out.

He tore into the paper tucked around his sandwich and propped his chin in his open palm to keep his face from slamming against the table in frustration. Across the table, Theo stared, dragging his tongue across the front of his teeth. He reached up absently to push the wispy, stray curls of his neatly tied ponytail back over his shoulder, eyes thoughtfully dancing between the clock on the hospital’s café wall and the untouched menu on the table in front of him. After a long stretch of silence – broken only occasionally by the sounds of Marco sighing – he sat forward, arms crossed on the table as he leaned in to catch Marco’s attention, voice low and hesitant.

“I, uh… I think I know of a place that might be what you're looking for.” He sat back with a sigh, like he'd just moved a great weight from his shoulders. “It's not much, but it's here in town.”

“You – _really?!”_ Marco nearly threw his sandwich across the café, and had to consciously refrain from excitedly grabbing his friend’s hands, or pulling him across the table for a hug. “Where? I'll take just about anything at this point, Theo.”

Giving him a tight smile, Theo nodded, reaching back to fidget with the collar of his dress shirt. “You say that _now…”_

“I'm serious,” Marco insisted, around another mouthful of sandwich, “You could tell me a place was _haunted,_ or covered in wallpaper from the seventies, and I'd move in _tomorrow,_ no problem.”

“Hope you mean that,” Theo chuckled, but Marco was too busy rushing through his lunch to pay much mind to the apprehension in his tone. He made sure to pin his friend down about a few more details before heading back to the main floor for the second half of his shift, optimistic.

Despite Theo’s warning that the place he promised to show Marco that weekend had a few _‘problems’,_ Marco was still over the moon at the thought. Whatever blemishes there might be, it would be a fine jumping-off point, a decent place to get his footing there in town before spreading his wings to look for something better. If he could just set in stone his living arrangements for that next year, he knew things would be alright.

He slapped a high five against the outstretched hand of the saintly marble statue that sat just outside of the garden-robed entrance to the hospital's main floor, scanned his badge, and tried to keep from singing out loud as he returned to work.

\--

“So how did you hear about this place?” Marco wondered aloud, trailing Theo by half a stride.

They met a few blocks from the hospital on the first possible Saturday, a halfway point between work and where they were supposed to be headed. Marco could see the building, even from there. It towered in plain sight at the center of town, a structure half full of dark-windowed office space, and one he had looked around and beyond a thousand times, without a second thought. That day, his racing thoughts were more than making up for that.

He was thankful for the short walk; the wind that whipped past them as they went was the kind of cold that ripped its way straight down your throat, settling in your lungs to cut you from the inside, out. Theo led the way, swinging keys in his hand as they got closer. Marco watched him, laughing under his breath, half just to keep himself warm. “Seems like you've got some connections. Do you live here?”

“Well, I used to, but I don't anymore. It's actually been a while since I've been here.” Theo admitted, with an odd measure of guilt in his voice. “And technically, I guess you'd say I'm a kind of landlord.”

Marco’s eyes went wide. “You're the – _Theo!_ You've been holdin’ out on me, man!” He whacked Theo lightly on the back of the arm, pulling an uneasy laugh out of his friend as they crossed the last street that stood between them and their destination.

“Nah, trust me. When you see it, you’ll know what I mean. It's not exactly a unit that people are lining up to rent.” Theo held open the door to the warmly-lit lobby of the massive building, aged brass letters on every wall and door spelling out ‘BRAUS BROTHERS’, a name Marco recognized as Theo’s surname. Made sense, Marco thought, considering his friend was apparently a damned _business partner_ there, or something. A few of the people who appeared to be working in the first floor lobby regarded him with familiarity, a lack of surprise at his presence there. Marco followed him inside, shaking his head, laughing.

“At this point you couldn't talk me out of a hole in the wall, as long as I could hook it up with running water and wifi.”

“The necessities,” Theo chuckled, rolling his eyes. With that, he motioned to an elevator they were fast approaching. “After you.”

Marco stepped first into the elevator, a cramped little room with outdated gold and burgundy décor, the top half actually wallpapered. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. Beside him, Theo was digging a set of keys from his coat pocket, flipping to the one he was looking for quickly and using it on a lock on the room’s small control panel. Turning it, a button beside it lit up, the button for the forty-third floor, the _top_ floor, and the only one on the panel with a keyhole beside it.

“Top floor?” Marco observed, a little impressed with the keyed entry. Theo nodded.

“If you're imagining some kind of penthouse, I'd keep dreaming.” He laughed. “But it's certainly not a bad view in the evenings, if you're not faint hearted.”

Marco shrugged. “Never been afraid of heights in my life.”

“Well that's good, I guess. Not all I'd be concerned about, but good all the same.”

“What else should I be--”

Theo cut in before Marco could finish. “This is us.”

With a tinny ding, the elevator opened and Theo stepped out automatically, Marco following behind him. Instead of a long hallway with many doors, he found himself in a stunted little hall, with nothing at its end but a wide, stiff couch, that looked like it hadn't been used in decades. Across from the elevator door, another, single door sat back from the wall, recessed into a small landing with a tiled area just in front of it. Theo moved toward it, keys in hand.

“Sorry for all the locks,” he laughed. “This is the only residence for a few floors, so we don't want anyone accidentally wandering up here and bothering the resident.” Something in his tone sounded like there might be more reasons for the security than he was ready to talk about, but Marco was desperate enough not to be terribly alarmed.

Lots of locks, he could deal with. It was certainly better than sleeping on the couch in Theo’s office, after all.

With the door unlocked, Theo held it open, motioning politely for Marco to lead the way. Holding his breath in hopes for the best, Marco did, stepping inside and taking in everything in sight as he looked around. He had come prepared to be underwhelmed, sure nothing would surprise him. But the space was certainly surprising, in the most pleasant way.

Somehow, stepping through the door felt like coming home.

It was spacious, largely open, and despite the dust that flew in the air, felt lived in, even without furnishings. Large windows looked as though they would let in lots of light, maybe brighten the dark green carpet that covered the floors, if the heavy curtains and drapes that hung over them were only pulled back a bit. Marco moved to the bordered carpet walkway that ran straight through the apartment, and walked in a tight, slow circle, looking up and down the bare, gold-beige walls and trying to imagine his own things propped, hanging and arranged along them.

“So it's all kind of open, here,” Theo said, a wide wave of his arm meant to display the entirety of the space. “You have the whole top floor to yourself, but a lot of it's rooftop space. Sitting area sinks down a bit here, and you've got a small balcony there, but I can't say I recommend using it for much.” He showed Marco where the floor sank down in one tiny, carpeted step that circled the living room, and moved to pull back the curtain hanging in front of the balcony window for all of a few seconds. As Theo had warned, the balcony really didn't look incredibly impressive – or safe – but Marco nodded to show that he'd seen what was behind the curtain. Letting in drop again, Theo turned to point toward the tiny, shallow hallway, that split in three directions, a center door with another on either side, all closed. “Bedrooms are on either side of the bath right back here, and the kitchen leads out onto the veranda.”

Marco turned as Theo moved again, this time to motion toward the open area of the kitchen. A wood-floored space sat beside the main breezeway of the kitchen itself, a good place for a dining set. Sitting barren, it almost looked more like a dance floor. Even the scuffs the weathered wood had collected made it look like dancing feet had crossed it more than once. Marco’s eyes followed the swirling patterns of light falling through the curtains Theo pulled away, showing off the view of the outside.

The veranda.

“A _veranda?”_ Marco repeated, in disbelief. “So that's – that would be – I can access that?”

“Oh, sure,” Theo said, motioning at the handle of what was obviously a sliding, glass door that led out of the apartment and onto the veranda. “If you'd like to.”

“Well at some point, definitely.” Marco nodded. “Maybe not when it's subzero like it has been, but soon enough.”

“Right. Well, that's everything,” Theo shrugged. “You're welcome to look around as much as you want. Everything's a little dusty, but nothing major needs repaired, so it could be ready for you in a few days.” He turned to head back toward the front door, keys already swinging in his hand again. “Just let me know when you're ready to leave, and we’ll--”

“I, well uh…” Marco stepped between Theo and the door, only half cognizant of his actions. “How soon do you think you could make a decision?”

“It's your decision to make. I wouldn't have offered to show it to you unless I was willing to rent it to you. I can give you as much time as you need to think about it.”

“I don't need any time.” Marco blurted out, biting his tongue at his own insistent tone. “I'm sorry, I just. I really need something right now. With everything that's going on with Krista and my daughter, I've gotta be closer, and…” He trailed off, embarrassed. “Sorry, you don't need to hear all that.”

“Color me used to it,” Theo chuckled, then looked Marco in the eye with an honest smile. “And happy to do my job, behind a desk or not.”

Glad to let it go at that, Marco sighed in resignation and looked around. “Alright, well obviously I need to ask before I start picking curtains – what do you usually ask per month, for the space?”

Theo twisted his mouth to one side, thoughtful. “If I'm honest it's been a while since I've had anyone up here, and a lot longer since I've had a tenant looking to stay for any amount of time. So I probably don't have an accurate answer for that.”

Marco nodded, chewing on his lip as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, thinking of the most polite way to press on with a delicate but extremely _important_ conversation. “Do you need me to give you some time to figure it out, or..?”

“No.” Theo said simply. “Is five hundred doable for you, right now?”

“Doable?” Marco gaped, stepping back to stare on reflex. “Theo, that's _pocket change_ for this place! You… You don't have to give me a big break because you know me.”

“I'd give it to you at the cost of utilities alone, but that might not look very good on paper, yeah?” Theo grinned. “So five hundred, utilities included, on the first of every month, alright?”

For a moment, Marco just stared, fully intending to argue, to haggle the price _upward,_ for once. There was a weight on his chest at the thought of Theo doing him such a huge favor, when he'd never really done much to repay him for the many others he had done for Marco. Looking around, he knew he didn't deserve the place, and he didn't deserve a friend like Theo.

Theo cleared his throat, turning to head out into the hallway, though he hovered just outside the apartment door. “You know, you're really doing _me_ a favor, taking this place. I have to keep the utilities on anyway, and it's not doing anything for me, sitting empty, is it?”

Marco nodded slowly. He didn't entirely agree that he was doing his friend any sort of favor, but the fact that they could be of any assistance to each other at all was enough to dull the roar of his guilt, at least for the time being. He looked back at where Theo lingered, taking his worries out on his already-chapped lip as he chewed over his options.

“Safety deposit and all that due when?” He asked, finally.

Theo poked his head back in through the open door, a genuinely amused look on his face.

“This place doesn't _need_ a safety deposit, trust me.”

With a deep inhale and a long sigh, Marco smiled, and though he still had reservations, there was something final about the feeling that rose up in him as Theo clapped his hand against the door frame and grinned in return. Marco kicked off his shoes, and headed to the larger of the two bedrooms to have a better look. There was no furniture, nothing on the wall to make it look like his space, but somehow, even without papers drafted and signed, it felt that way.

At least for the moment, at the top of one of Sina’s tallest building, he was home.

\--

After the check for his first month's rent had cleared and the lease to his old apartment nearly an hour away had been successfully broken, Marco figured it was probably past time to start moving his things into what was going to be his new home.

Before worrying about moving vans and professional assistance, he took a truckload of essentials with him to work one evening, and used the hours after his shift ended to head to the towering building he would soon be heading home to every night. It wasn't much – he carried it all in two trips from the tightly wrapped parking lot to the cramped elevator – but it was everything he'd need to set up camp there until he could move in properly, save for a few groceries.

He'd worry about that later, he decided. For the time, there were far more important things. He needed to figure out where all of the outlets were, where to set up his router for the internet, and how much of his furniture he was really going to have room for.

And really, he thought, he probably _should_ see what the outside looked like.

He’d signed the lease days before, was already carrying a set of keys to the place, and had never even been outside the door.

The veranda looked out over the city, a beautiful skyline, even hidden by the heavy fog of the morning. The railing that circled the edge of the building beyond it was high enough for Marco to fold his arms easily across, and sturdy enough to hold him while he stood there, taking in the sleepy cityscape. The paint flaked off under his sleeves, but it was hardly a concern. He brushed it off and turned back to look toward the door.

Above the entrance to his new home, there was a separate high, bordered parapet, a flat raised area with something like a steeple at its center, built up to give the appearance of a fortress of sorts around the border. The edges were crumbled and weathered, but otherwise it looked sturdy, safe enough. But it wasn't the structure itself that drew Marco’s eye upward, as he stood staring, breath clouding in front of him.

Something else looked back, something far more out of place than a decorative façade.

Striking, startlingly humanoid, stone gargoyles.

There were four of them, standing everywhere from what looked like a few feet tall to height that would surely dwarf Marco beside them. Their features were so sharp, so clear even from meters away, it was as if they had only be cast or carved days before. They stood at three of the four corners of the parapet, with the final and tallest statue in the center, sculpted to cling with the claws of one hand and one massive foot to the domed steeple itself. It appeared that the empty space at the southern corner may have once held a stone figure as well, but only rubble and scratched, cracked rock was left to suggest it.

Marco looked up at them, swallowing. In the frigid haze of the early morning, they almost seemed to be stilling movements, looking down at him with eyes that seemed to hold life.

He shivered, hastening back inside, the breathtaking view of the city entirely forgotten.

It took him a solid minute to remember Theo’s number.

“So the rock monsters are nice.”

It was as good a greeting as he could muster. On the other end of the line, Theo laughed.

“Was wondering when you'd call about them.” He replied sheepishly. “You're welcome to drop the lease at any time, you know. If you're scared of the statues, I understand.”

“Hey, whoa – I wasn’t calling to complain.” Marco said hastily, though he could hear the air of jest in Theo’s voice. He hoisted himself up onto the worn granite countertop of the kitchen, as if to show himself settled there. Never mind the fact that his friend couldn't actually _see_ him.

“I _do_ wanna know why the hell there are nearly half a dozen creepy statues on the rooftop here, though. In the middle of downtown Sina, where literally _no one_ can even see them.”

“That was kind of the point.” Theo chuckled. “And they were my mother’s. She owned the building. That's how I came into it.”

“So your mom liked gargoyles?”

“She liked _those_ gargoyles. But she didn't want them damaged, so she kept them up there.”

Marco hummed, glancing outside. “They're in really good shape, then, considering their age.”

“Don't need much maintenance,” said Theo, “They kind of take care of themselves. Anyway, yeah. They're kind of a package deal with the apartment. So if at any point you decide you don't want--”

“Theo, _seriously,”_ Marco cut in, hastily. “I don't know who else you've had in here, but some statues aren't going to affect my life enough for me to even _notice_ them, much less want to move because they're here. For all I care, they could come hang out inside with me, for what you're giving me with this place.”

At that, Theo laughed aloud, apparently quite tickled. “Careful what you wish for.” 

\--

Moving was a major ordeal for any person with a job and a life, but the fact that Marco was also a _parent_ made the whole thing that much more complicated. He had to consider his new apartment’s proximity to his daughter’s school, ask about lead in the paint and whether or not the windows had locks, and be certain that there was stable internet and phone service to keep him in touch with half a dozen people and services within hours of getting settled, just to keep himself in the loop.

And of course, he had to give her the grand tour.

“Wow, this place is like a secret hideout, this is awesome!”

Olivia Lenz-Bodt, very much her mother’s child, commanded the attention of the room as soon as she entered it. Even if she did so by shouting excitedly about her delight in seemingly mundane things. In that respect, at least, she was very much like her father.

Bursting in seemingly alone, if Marco didn't know better, Olivia ran straight for him, her perfectly crooked grin splitting her face. She had Marco’s thick, dark hair, and shining brown eyes that it often fell in front of, though she had lucked into Krista’s slender, feminine frame. Freckles like Marco’s dusted the skin across her nose and cheeks, and gathered at her knees and elbows, giving them the appearance of being permanently scuffed. It was just one more thing that reminded Marco of himself, and endeared his daughter to him – and worried her mother endlessly.

“Hi, baby girl!”

“Hey, Dad!” Olivia chirped. “Mom’s here, too.”

“Figured she'd be close behind.” Marco replied, watching the open doorway for her. Krista appeared a moment later, arms full of bags of things for their daughter. “There you are! And… you brought Ymir. Fabulous.”

Indeed, walking just a pace behind Krista and Olivia was Marco’s cousin, Ymir. She raised and eyebrow and nodded in his direction, silent and smiling. He sighed and returned the gesture, almost wishing she would speak, just to give him a more valid reason to feel tense enough to throw up at the sight of her.

Krista coughed, snatching Marco’s attention as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. “We can't stay long, but Olivia insisted we all come in to visit, so here we are.”

Marco nodded. “Well that's… That's just fine. Can I, uh – can I get you three anything? Something to drink?” Olivia pawed at his shirt, tugging his sleeve until he looked down at her.

“Do you have my milk, dad?”

Marco winced, realizing he still hadn't grocery shopped properly. “No, sweetheart, haven't been to the store for it, yet. Soon as I get a chance, I’ll go get you a big pack of the chocolate kind!”

Olivia didn't seem too disappointed. “Can I look at your house?” She asked, already a few paces away, with an eye turned toward the closed bedroom doors. Marco nodded.

“Of course, baby.”

Olivia’s eyes widened, prepared to take a mile now that Marco had given her the inch. “Can I go look _outside?”_

Marco raised en eyebrow, smiling. “If your mother says it’s alright.”

To his surprise, Krista paused for only a beat before nodding, motioning in the direction of Olivia’s discarded jacket.

“Ymir can take you. Your daddy and I need to talk, anyway. Wear your coat, and stay away from the railing, there.”

Olivia didn't need to be told twice. She was already shrugging her coat on by the time Krista finished her sentence, and scratched excitedly at the handle of the door like an enthused puppy, waiting on Ymir to let her out.

She was out like a shot once the door was open, Ymir shouting a warning to her to stay near. She wasn't an entirely useless guardian, but something about having his daughter in her care made Marco want to keep an eye on both of them, all the same.

Maybe it was just the situation. Nothing had felt right in Marco’s world since the birth of his daughter, nearly seven years earlier. In those early days, he and Krista had tried to make a go of being a family, living together while they finished high school and began adult life, already saddled with the responsibilities of parenthood. Try though they did, things never clicked; no matter how much Marco loved his little girl, he and Krista could never love each other enough to make life work, together. Their saving grace was having the sense to separate before legally marrying, but saving himself the expense and stress of a divorce didn't feel like much of a victory to Marco.

Especially when his _cousin_ was playing stepmom to his daughter, spending every day with her that he wasn't.

It was bad enough that Krista didn't want to be with him, even if it _was_ only for Olivia’s sake. It was worse that Krista waited to reveal to him that she wasn't even really interested in men until after she'd already borne Marco a child. Seeing her hand in hand with Ymir had been the breaking point for Marco, and though it had been nearly a year since Krista had admitted to the relationship, the time hadn't made it sting any less, for him.

He watched them through the glass of the door, blatantly staring. Anything to buy himself another minute, not looking Krista in the eye.

“So the only time she gets to have any fun is when it's giving you time to yell at me.”

Krista sighed. “I don't yell at you, and I never have. I was going to tell you how surprised I am by how nice this place turned out to be. A little odd, but it's not bad for a single man.”

“That's me, the single man with the weird apartment.” Marco laughed, though there was no humor in his voice. Finally he turned to face Krista. “But hey, at least I did something halfway right for once, yeah?”

“Why are you _being_ this way?” She asked. “You’ve been so asinine with me lately. What is it you want, Marco?”

“I want what anybody would want,” Marco sighed. “I want a home, and a family. And not like this. I want… I just want a normal life.”

“You can have that.” Krista said, arms crossing over her chest. “If there's anything I really want, it's for you to be more involved with Olivia. That’s why I asked you to move closer.”

Marco shook his head, irritated by her choice of the word _‘asked’._ “You know that’s not all that I mean when I say--”

Krista threw a hand up, stopping him mid-sentence. “I _do_ know that, Marco, and that's the problem.”

“I don't see why wanting my family to be whole is a problem.” Marco drew his eyes down into the harshest glare he could muster, but his was no match for Krista’s.

“Family isn't always what we think it should be! It’s not always mommy and daddy playing house with their babies; it's whoever and whatever works.”

“How can I make things work if you're not willing to?” Marco hadn't meant to shout, but even Ymir could hear him through the thick glass of the sliding door; she turned to look in their direction, to make sure Krista was alright. Krista glanced out to meet her gaze, then returned her eyes to Marco, her voice low.

“We don’t have to sleep together to raise Olivia together, Marco.”

Marco nodded his concession. “I know that. I’d settle for getting along.”

“Then you've got to stop with the ancient history. You want to make this family work so badly? Then I need you to step up and be more than a Disneyland dad to our daughter. I need you to put your feelings aside once in a while.” 

Krista’s words were sharp, a slap that was still stinging when they were punctuated by the heavy slide of the door opening, and Olivia’s rapid footfall as she bounded inside.

“I didn't know you had _monsters,_ dad!” She turned and left as quickly as she’d come, prompting Krista to follow her, an alarmed expression on her face.

“They're only statues, Ollie,” Marco sighed, trailing after them, sure he would have to hear about how frightening the gargoyles were later, once Krista got an eyeful of them. “Just ignore them.”

“How can I ignore something that cool?” Olivia shouted, literally bouncing in place as she tugged Krista toward her to point at them. Krista grimaced up at the sight, shaking her head.

“That's one word for them, I guess.”

Olivia was unfazed by her mother’s lack of enthusiasm. She stared in awe at the stone figures above them for another moment, then turned back to Krista, still wide-eyed. “Mom, can I stay with Dad this weekend?”

Krista frowned. “You're supposed to stay with your father n--”

“Next weekend, I know.” Olivia cut in. “But I _really_ wanna stay this weekend. Please? He just got a cool new house! With monsters!”

Olivia had the same practiced, deliberate pout that Krista had so often pulled on Marco in years gone by, and seeing it on her smaller, sweeter face effected him no less than it had, then. Krista seemed less moved.

“It's an apartment, with ugly statues,” she sighed, giving the gargoyles a final harsh, sideways glance, before turning back to look down at Olivia. “But alright.”

“Yesss!” Olivia punched the air triumphantly, galloping over to give Marco a tight hug before returning to look at the gargoyles again. In her place, Krista moved to stand beside Marco, and for a moment, they stood watching her in happy silence. Together.

“I’ll be here to pick her up at six thirty on Monday morning.” Krista said finally. “Manageable?”

“More than.” Marco said quickly. He wasn't entirely sure he was being honest, but it was the answer he was determined to have her believe, all the same. “Thank you, Krista.”

Krista nodded, smiled, just a little. “Just don't make me regret this.”

\--

Keeping Olivia every other weekend was one of the highlights of Marco’s month, year round. The walls of his bedroom in his previous apartment had been papered in photos of the two of them, building snow men, sitting on mounds of sand at the beach, and playing at the city park. When he moved, he figured it was probably time to finally frame all of them, and time to figure out what there was to do with his little girl, in his new neighborhood. In the days he'd spent moving, he had noticed a shopping center that sold Olivia’s favorite frozen yogurt, and had windows lined with colorful clothes and dolls that lit up when he breezed past.

So on their first afternoon together, that’s where they headed.

On the way, Olivia spotted a coffee shop, pulling at Marco’s hand and running full tilt toward the brightly lit doorway before he could think to ask whether Krista would happy with her having a sugary, caffeinated drink drowned in whipped cream and sprinkles. That was exactly what she ordered, too, rattling off the name like a seasoned professional as the barista behind the counter cooed and giggled at her. The hefty total was handed over to Marco in the form of a receipt that he trashed immediately, hoping Krista wouldn't think to ask about it. Olivia was already perched happily on a low, cushy chair in the shop’s lobby, waiting for him to join her, when the title of her drink and her name was called.

Marco snapped another picture of her on his phone, as she held the sizable drink up to take her first sip.

They wandered through the shopping center together, Marco barely able to stop smiling for a moment as Olivia squealed and pointed at the toys in every window. Promising her that he would remember her favorites for her birthday, Marco pulled her along after an hour of browsing, and they headed back toward his new apartment for some settling in.

The block beside the building that held his new home was full of shops, many of them looking as if they'd been operating from the same four walls for decades or longer. Odd people lingered in and outside of each, and the quarters were so close in the free space left along the sidewalks, that it seemed some of them were following Marco and Olivia, though they were undoubtedly just heading the same way. One man in particular drew Olivia’s attention, and for a moment Marco thought it might have been Theo, from the flash of long, blonde hair he saw as the man turned sharply from his path walking behind them. But his gate and odd clothing were different than Theo’s, and he was much more slight in stature, and Marco shook the curiosity to see the stranger’s face from his mind as he hurried Olivia along.

With displays in front of every store and vendors chatting up passing pedestrians even in the winter chill, it was a parent’s nightmare, and sure enough, Olivia dragged behind him, peering at every store and talking to every stranger that gave her a moment of their time. Some of them handed her small gifts, flowers or tiny tokens from their shops. It was endearing for the first few minutes, but after that, Marco’s teeth were set on edge, anxious to get out of the cold, and out of the street with his daughter.

He was a breath away from lecturing her about their need to hurry back, when someone grabbed his hand, mid-stride. Turning on a dime, he saw that it wasn't Olivia.

“In a hurry, son?”

Marco pulled his hand away sharply, on reflex. The person in front of him looked back with wild eyes, though they seemed in no hurry themselves. The hand that hadn't been holding Marco’s rested on Olivia’s shoulder, and Marco reached out to pull her away, too.

“You two living in that top floor?” The wild-eyed person asked. They pointed up toward Marco’s building, easily visible above all the line of all those surrounding it. They clicked their tongue thoughtfully, then leaned up to look Marco hard in the eyes. “You ever hear anything about it?”

“As much as I need to,” Marco replied curtly, grabbing for Olivia’s hand. “We need to go now. Sorry. Have a nice day.”

With that, he tugged Olivia after him, his steps falling more quickly as he almost _jogged_ to get away from the person still staring after them. Glancing back, Marco noticed they were standing in front of a store proclaiming ‘Wine and Spirits Sold Here’ from a wooden sign hanging above the door, and shook his head at the thought of vagrant drunks being free to shout as passers by in the neighborhood he now called home.

“Daddy, who was that lady?” Olivia asked, doing her best to match Marco’s pace. Marco sucked in a breath, hoping they were out of the person’s earshot; he wasn't at all sure that they _were_ a lady.

“Just someone who lives nearby, I'm sure,” he said dismissively, though that thought turned his stomach a bit. “They were just being friendly.”

He didn't offer her any further explanation. They were within sight of their building, and with renewed energy, Olivia nearly ran toward the entrance, Marco hurrying to keep pace with her, this time.

There was something novel about the need to use a key to access their floor, something that was far from lost on Olivia. She walked into the lobby like she owned the place, making fast friends with the staff that worked the desks at the first floor stations. On their way to the elevator, she was sure to wave in greeting to everyone she passed, resident and businessman alike, and most of them waved right back. All save for one odd man, lingering near the revolving door that led out into the parking area. Marco frowned in his direction, but he offered no change in expression, only stood from where he was sat on a bench and headed out the spinning door and into the parking lot.

Nothing harmful about some grumpy asshole sharing their building, Marco decided, but something about the way he watched them – and only them – made him uneasy.

Still, they were inside the elevator and on their way up to his apartment before Marco could think on it for very long, and in the midst of Olivia’s excited chatter about setting up her new bedroom and helping her father unpack his ‘secret spy hideout house’, it was hard to think of anything other than their plans for the rest of the evening.

\--

With a pizza delivered and half of his boxes unpacked, Marco called it an evening, and made arrangements for Olivia to call and check in with Krista. They had put up framed pictures and posters, figured out just how many toys would fit in the secondhand toy chest Marco had bought for her bedroom, and had taken at least three tours of the veranda, one of which including a naming ceremony for all of the garish statues that stood above the apartments entrance.

All the was left was to update Krista, and let her know he was handling things. Mostly.

“It was good! I helped Dad unpack, named all the monsters, and my room here is almost as cool as my room back home.”

Sitting cross-legged in Marco’s still barren kitchen, Olivia recited the details of their day together to her mother. There was a short pause, in which Olivia fidgeted, and Krista likely asked questions, pressing for more details. “Yeah, we went to Starbucks, and he let me get a frappuccino!  Also, we went to the shopping center, and on our way back, I saw a wizard, a knight, and a fortune teller lady!”

Marco could tell by the twist of Olivia's mouth that Krista was undoubtedly assuring her that she saw no such thing, but she was insistent. “No, I really did! Dad saw them, too! He's got the coolest neighbors.”

Well that was certainly one perspective on his new neighborhood, Marco mused, though he could hardly imagine anyone sharing it. Olivia turned and looked over at him, toothy grin widening as he smiled back at her.

“Yeah, he's here. Ok, I love you, Mom. I’ll see you on Monday! Goodnight.” With that, she happily handed the phone over to Marco, who paused for a moment to gather himself before letting Krista know he was there.

“So you saw the wizard and his friends too, huh?” Krista sounded more amused than irritated, so at least that was something. Still, Marco groaned.

“They were just some odd people outside of the liquor store at the corner.”

“The _liquor_ store?”

“We had to pass it to get back to--”

“And you let her have _coffee?”_

“It was _once,_ Krista. Please don't make a big deal out of this, alright? I won't make it a regular thing. Just wanted to make this a good weekend for her.” Marco clasped a hand hard over his eyes, dragging it down his face as he forced himself to lower his voice. “I’m trying, ok?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and he began to worry that it had gone dead. But then Krista spoke again, and her voice was quieter, softer than he'd heard it in a very long time.

“I know you are.” She said, and there wasn't the faintest hint of a ‘but’ to be heard in her tone. “I’ll see you Monday, Marco. Goodnight.”

Marco let go of a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and swallowed. It wasn't much, but it was a start. He smiled, if only a little.

“G’night, Kris.”

\--

“Mom hates the monsters.” Olivia said matter-of-factly, as Marco helped her climb into the cot they'd set up for her in her new bedroom, to tide her over until the bed he had ordered for her would be delivered. Marco nodded, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“I'm not even slightly surprised.” 

“I don't, though! I want some at our house!” Olivia flopped backward onto her makeshift bed, giggling when it creaked beneath her – even more so when it obviously concerned Marco. He brushed the unruly hair from in front of her face, gathering it atop her head in a soft hair tie.

“Well you can just come visit mine, any time you like.”

“I don't think mom likes it when I stay with you.” Olivia said bluntly. She drew her eyes down seriously, and toyed with the lose threads of the blankets that covered her. Marco shook his head, taking her fidgeting hands in his.

“She just misses you, is all.”

“I think she doesn't think you're a very good dad.”

Marco sucked in a sharp breath, biting his tongue for a moment to keep from saying something his daughter would surely parrot, something that would only make things worse between he and Krista. “Well what do _you_ think?”

Olivia smiled widely. “I think you're the best dad ever. And I think you should keep the monsters.”

“You're the only monster I want to keep.” Marco grinned, ruffling Olivia’s hair as he pulled her blankets up to cover her to her chin. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight,” she said quietly, and then a moment later, much more quickly, “Hey, Dad?”

“Yes?”

“Will you leave that hall light on?”

Marco frowned, but nodded. He'd never known his daughter to be afraid of the dark, before. “If you want me to, of course.”

“Ok. I do want it on. I won't see the ghosts outside, that way.”

“Ghosts?” Marco had to stop himself insisting that her imagination was getting out of hand, that weekend.

She nodded, pointing to her window. “There are things that move around. Outside.”

Marco followed the line of her pointed finger. He stepped toward the window, and even peered out from between the closed blinds that hung in front of it, but saw nothing. He turned back to her, smiling again. “Anything that's moving around outside is only a shadow, sweetheart. Probably a bird or a bat or something. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Olivia seemed to accept his explanation, nodding as she pulled her blankets up again. “Ok. I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, baby girl. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” That should have been the end of it, but Marco had only made it halfway out of her room when sure enough, she piped up again. “Hey, Dad?”

He couldn't help himself smiling, turning back to face her with a tired sigh. “Yes, love?”

Wide eyed, Olivia blinked back at him.

“Shadows… of _what?”_


	2. Tourmaline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ["Take your daughter and run by daylight, so the night doesn't catch you unprepared."]

\--

Despite an obvious wariness of the large stone statues perched atop the building that Marco now called home, his daughter Olivia was also transfixed by them. 

With every visit, she would spend as much time as she could convince Marco to allow her just  _ looking _ at them, even conning him into climbing the rickety ladder that led up to the top of the parapet on which they stood to get a bit closer. Running her small hands over the smooth stone curves of the statues’ bodies, she examined them like they were something priceless, an artifact or a work of art in a museum, inspiring her reverence. 

For Marco’s part, he didn't mind them terribly, but he certainly didn't understand Olivia’s attraction. Seeing them face to face did seem to bring them to life somewhat, if only because head-on, they seemed much less intimidating - almost human. What once had appeared as gigantic, looming stone beasts were actually incredibly lifelike statues, not much taller than Marco himself. One of the four was actually quite a bit shorter, and Olivia seemed to like it the best. Its comparatively comedic stature and wingless design made it perfect for throwing her arms around, a sight that Marco couldn't help laughing at, especially when he thought of how Krista would react if she knew. 

Getting Olivia back inside after their tour of the terrace was harder with each visit, despite whipping winds and blistering cold. Marco wouldn't even  _ consider _ taking her out after nightfall, afraid that the temperature would be dangerously low without the warm glow of the unobstructed sun. In the evenings she was content with just telling him her thoughts, glancing outside through the many windows in the apartment, and generally buzzing with enthusiasm about the statues. 

“And the little one has a star thingy on his belly, so I call him Mister Star, and the big one looks like he has on boots made of flowers, and the mean-looking one has stuff dribbling down his chin, so maybe he doesn't know how to chew with his mouth closed!”

Olivia had endless ideas and theories about the gargoyles, but she also had a keen eye for the intricate details that the artists responsible for them had adorned them with, and it was her focused attention on those details that drew Marco’s eye to them as well. Each of the four statues did indeed have unique markings, scrawling from different areas of their stone bodies. Marco chalked it up to meticulous workmanship, clever artistry in their creation, but Olivia was insistent that each had a meaning. 

Even if the meaning she decided upon changed daily. 

“And the one on top up there is too tall, and he has weird-looking wings like a giant dragonfly, so the others don't wanna play with him so that's why he stays up there, because he's sad.”

“That's no fun!” Marco played along, listening to one of her latest stories as he tidied his dining room after another dinner of Chef Boyardee pasta and dollar store bread sticks. Keeping her talking was one of the many tricks he'd figured out to keep her distracted, and she always ate better when she was too busy thinking about the gargoyles to turn her nose up at her food. 

“Yeah, and the one with no wings looks like someone tore his wings off, so I think the other ones did it because they got mad at him.”

“Why were they mad?” Marco mused, only half listening. Olivia shrugged. 

“I dunno, Dad. Maybe we should ask them!”

“Ask them? How should we do that?”

“Just talk to them. They can talk, you know.”

Marco froze for a moment. Finally, Olivia had his full attention. 

“Sweetheart… No. No, the statues can't talk.”

Olivia finished off the last of a breadstick and nodded insistently. “Of course they can, Dad. I heard them!”

“Oh? And when was that?” With any other topic, Marco would've found Olivia’s vivid imagination adorable. But the gargoyles were a different matter. What if she'd told other people, made them believe that  _ he'd _ convinced her they could talk? What if she'd told  _ Krista?  _

“Did something happen to make you think you heard them talk?” he continued, choosing his words carefully. Olivia shook her head, stubbornness written across her tiny features. 

“No, Daddy. I  _ heard _ them. They only talk at night, so it's easy to hear them if you listen.”

“I think maybe you've been listening a little too closely,” Marco responded, clearing the dishes away from the table in front of her. “Sometimes, especially at night, we hear things that aren’t th--”

“They  _ are _ there, Daddy!” Olivia cut in, and the welling emotion in her voice told Marco it was time to change the subject. 

“Alright, sweetheart. I know they are. And if you think they can talk, I guess that's all right, so long as they're not bothering you when they do it.” He smiled at her reassuringly, until the hard set of her pouty jaw softened, and she finally grinned in return. 

He worried that he might have made a mistake, letting the subject drop. It was his responsibility as a parent to guide her, after all, to teach her about the difference in truth and fantasies. The innocent joy in her eyes made it hard to extinguish those fantasies entirely, though, even in the name of leading her in the right direction. 

Marco hoped he wasn’t doing wrong by her, letting her linger in them a bit longer. He hoped it was harmless, letting her think whatever she wanted of the world, letting her hold on to the magic of mystery for just a short time more. More than anything, he hoped he could keep her as happy as she seemed in that moment, satisfied that she'd made her point. 

He could play along, just for a little while, for his little girl.

\--

Life in a city like Sina was a juggling act for anyone. Between navigating the busy, crowded streets and making it to work on time, to finding and keeping a job and a place to live, just getting by was stressful in the urban ocean. For Marco, keeping ahead of the changing tides of his life there in Sina was a constant worry, especially when he was trying to stay afloat as a parent as well. 

Everything he did, he did with Olivia in mind, with an eye toward making his life more welcoming for her. Every new piece of furniture he purchased, every grocery item he bought, every night he stayed up later than he had the energy to, pulling his new home together, was a choice Marco made for his daughter.

The weekends that she spent with him reminded him of why he made those choices - and why they were the right ones.

“Daddy, I made you something at Sunday school!” Olivia burst through the door on Friday evening less than a second after the key had turned over in the lock. It could still be seen there, stuck halfway inside the knob of the door that she threw open before barreling toward Marco excitedly. 

“Did you?” Marco grinned, arms held out for her to land in. She skidded to a clumsy stop and threw her arms around his neck as he scooped her up. “Where did you go to Sunday school?”

“Yeah, at Mommy’s church, last weekend! I made you a present!” The excitement on her face melted quickly into a thoughtful expression, and she wriggled free from Marco’s gentle hold. “But I think I forgot it in my bag, let me run back downstairs and get it!” She turned on her heel and headed back for the door too quickly for Marco to insist that she stop, but Krista was almost as quick as she entered the apartment, blocking the doorway enough to keep Olivia inside.

“Oh no you don't, young lady. Not alone.”

Ymir was close behind, and she took Olivia’s hand with a smile. “I’ll take her, Kris.”

They were gone before Krista could even nod in response. With the two of them out of sight, she turned back to look at Marco, practiced pleasantries already on the tip of her tongue. He cut her off before she had the chance.

“Sunday school?” Marco asked, raising an eyebrow. “Since when are you religious?” 

Krista shrugged, not a trace of apology offered in her stance. “I'm not. I mean, not really. You know that. I just think it's a positive environment for her.”

Marco slid his tongue across his teeth, growing impatient. “Mhm. Your  _ mother _ works at that church, doesn't she?”

“Yes.” Krista replied, after a beat of silence. 

Marco sighed, nodding. “Ah. Ok. Thought so.” He moved away, turning his back on her as he did. 

A few paces behind him, Krista crossed her arms over her chest. Marco didn't need to witness her doing it; the leather of her jacket made a sharp sound as she jammed one arm atop the other, huffing quietly. “Is there something you need to say?”

Marco shook his head. “Don't see much point in it, at this juncture.” He turned back around to see Krista staring, eyes narrowing. 

“I don't really see a problem with me taking my child to my family’s church. Please correct me if I'm wrong, there.”

“She's  _ our _ child, Krista.” Marco reminded her. “And I don't care that you took her to church, that's fine, I just… Don't  _ you _ feel weird there? Even a little bit? I mean, you're dating a woman - your  _ boss,  _ and your ex’s  _ cousin, _ no less - and you don't feel even the slightest bit uneasy sitting there listening to all the fire and brimstone stuff? Playing the good girl, in front of your mom and God and everyone there?”

Krista heaved a sigh. “That's not what it's about, Marco. Mom and most of the church knows about Ymir and I, and it's not an issue. That's not why I go, anyway. Things like church and my mom’s religious holidays are about doing things as a  _ family _ with Olivia, and giving her some positivity and stability. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“I  _ know _ you're not, and that's why it frustrates me!” Marco admitted, raking a hand through his hair. “I just feel like you've got some other motivation, like you want to make damned sure Olivia is in there good and solid with your family, so later you can just…” He motioned with his hands, miming a pair of scissors cutting through the air. Krista’s mouth fell slightly open, visibly offended.

“Look, I  _ really _ don't like when you--”

“Here it is!” Olivia interrupted by bouncing back through the door, slightly breathless, with a very amused-looking Ymir barely holding onto the tiny hand she was being dragged by. Once they were inside, Olivia waved her free hand to show that there was something clenched inside of it. She thrust it out toward Marco, jiggling loosely threaded, multicolored beads. 

“It's beautiful, sweetheart.” Marco smiled, taking it from her to turn over in his hand. It was an odd size, and he wasn't certain exactly what she'd intended it to be, so he played it safe by playing dumb. “How should I use it?” 

Olivia huffed. “It's a bracelet, Dad. You wear it!” She snatched it back from his hand and tugged on his fingers, straightening them out to slide the bracelet over them and onto his wrist. “See? Fits perfect!”

“It sure does.” Marco nodded, even if it was just a little bit loose. He shook his wrist to let it slide a few inches further up his arm, and Olivia beamed up at him, obviously satisfied with his response. 

“It's rainbow colors,” she explained with learned confidence. “In church they told us that the rainbow is God's promise to all of us, to protect us and look after us while we’re here on earth, and that he won't ever destroy the world with a flood again, like he did with Noah.”

Marco nodded, smiling to keep his uneasiness from being apparent to her. “Well,  _ that's _ good news.” 

“But I also made one for Mommy and Ymmie, and one for you, because rainbows make me think of my family. Rainbows have lots of different colors, and I have lots of different people that love me in my family. So I made all of you a special bracelet to wear.”

“Well thank you, baby girl.” Marco replied, kneeling down to pull her into another hug. Her mother's intentions aside, Olivia’s present was still just that - a handmade gift of love from his little girl. He made a mental note to tighten the plastic cord that held the bracelet together later, and kissed the top of Olivia’s head. “I'll wear it every day.”

\--

“Marc, kiddo, you look like death warmed over. You all right?”

Auruo Bossard wasn't known for tact. 

The doctor that Marco most frequently worked alongside in the Sina Central emergency department, he was known statewide for his excellence of care, but was just as renowned for his lack of a bedside manner. He wasn't much better with his coworkers, and Marco grew tired of being referred to as “kiddo” after nearly five years working in and around hospitals. 

“Mm, refried death,” snorted Marlow, a transporter who worked the same halls. He was never shy about offering his opinion. About  _ anything.  _ He tucked an empty wheelchair back into its corner before jabbing Marco hard in the ribs. “Pretty sure they serve that in the cafe here, on Wednesdays.”

“Gross, Marlow.” Petra, one of Marco’s fellow nurses on the unit, glared in Marlow’s direction, before turning back to face Marco sympathetically. “Seriously though, Marco - are you alright?”

“Just tired,” Marco groaned, rubbing hard at the back of his aching neck. His coworkers bombarding him in the middle of the emergency room breezeway wasn't making him feel any less exhausted and irritable, but Marco kept that particular complaint to himself. “Moving in the middle of winter was a mistake.”

“Pretty dumbass move, yeah,” a shrill voice interjected. Marco turned toward the sound and tried to keep himself from sighing in frustration at the sight of Hitch, the newest triage nurse in the emergency department, and frequent invader of conversations. She was intense, on a good day; younger and louder than the rest of the staff, she made up for her inexperience there by leaping headfirst into their social circle. She elbowed her way into the impromptu group chat Marco and the others had created beside the nurses’ station, a square of tall counters surrounded on all sides by hallways that led to numbered rooms. It wasn’t the best place to stop and talk, given its central location and how busy it stayed, both day and night. Then again, loitering in those halls to chatter wasn't Marco’s choice, but his coworkers weren't known for giving him much say in the matter. 

Especially Hitch.

“Wouldn't catch me tryin’ that shit.” She giggled at Marco’s sour expression, earning only a fraction of the glare from Petra that Marlow had. She stuck out her tongue in Petra’s direction and playfully bumped her elbow against Marco’s. “You gonna be okay to finish your shift, Sleepy? Or do I need to call someone in to cover you?”

Marco nodded, slumping back slightly against the high counter behind him. “I’ll manage. Just no more in my section like that last guy in twenty seven, alright?”

Before Hitch could respond, Auruo laughed, loud enough to echo down the halls all around them. “Hey, no promises, kid. We've seen all kinds of colorful characters, lately.”

“I'm about colored out,” Marco admitted, passing off his clipboard to Auruo. “And ready for a few less characters.” From every direction, his coworkers chuckled. 

“Find a new job.”

“In a new city.”

“In a different century.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Marco rolled his eyes and quickened his steps, leaving the rest of the group behind to linger at the floor’s main square as he headed to the next newly-occupied patient room. “Point taken.” 

\--

Heading home from work in the evening was a welcome event, even when it meant heading out into freezing temperatures before night had even fallen. With darkness setting in early, and the lack of light bringing a lack of any warmth it might have provided, Marco often found himself lingering in the registration lobby of the hospital’s main entrance, waiting until he could see the train approaching a few blocks away before venturing outside. 

“Waitin’ for a ride?” Marlow asked him, passing him in the hall as he watched for the train. Marco nodded, not fully looking away from the window. 

“Too cold to wait outside.”

“Mm, true. Gardens are nice to hang out in once it warms up, though. Just a few more months, and we’ll have some color out there.” 

“Here’s hoping.” Marco nodded. He looked over the gardens as they were, mulched mounds with stunted branches and empty flower beds, dotted with a handful of hearty evergreens. Even the fountains that ran at the garden’s center seemed barren, no water flowing then, for fear of it freezing. Only in studying them and the dozen or so stone figures around them did he notice another reason for the garden’s pared-down appearance; one of the largest statues was missing. 

“When’d they get rid of the priest statue?” Marco asked, not even sure if Marlow was still behind him. Marlow was still close enough to hear him, though. Marco turned to see him walking back toward the spot where he hovered by the windows.

“Oh, robe guy?” Marlow clarified. When Marco nodded, Marlow merely shrugged. “It's been a few days, at least. Maybe even a couple weeks.”

“They gonna replace it?” Marco wondered aloud. “I never heard anything about them planning to redo the gardens. That statue’s been there since I came here in school.”

Marlow shook his head. “I don't think it was a planned thing, honestly. That statue just kind of disappeared one night. Maintenance dudes were pissed - I would've been too. Dumb-ass teenagers probably took it as a prank.”

Marco stared back at him, brow furrowing. “A six-foot-tall statue got stolen from the gardens in front of the main entrance of the hospital, and no one saw it? Seriously?”

Obviously sensing Marco’s disbelief, Marlow frowned and turned back to head down the hallway again, throwing his arms up defensively. “Teenagers, man. Little shits are crafty.”

“That'd be  _ impressively _ crafty,” Marco laughed, more to himself, as Marlow was already too far down the hallway to hear him. He shook his head, grinned at the thought of a handful of determined kids somehow managing to make off with a statue that likely weighed more than they would combined, and laughed aloud again. 

It was almost enough to make him want to brave the twilight chill and get a closer look at the crime scene. 

_ Almost.  _

Instead, he stayed inside until he heard the familiar sound of the low and distant roar of the train approaching. 

\--

The train was Marco’s lifeline, there in Sina. Owning a car wasn't practical in his situation, but neither was being stuck in one place, especially while hosting his daughter on their weekends together. Luckily, Olivia loved the train almost as much as she loved his new apartment, so just the  _ journey _ to wherever they decided to go from one visit to the next was exciting for her. 

Marco took Olivia shopping, most often. It was a treat for her; she could choose items for her new bedroom, and he could make sure that she had what she needed and most of what she wanted, on the days she spent with him. But it was also practical. Marco was still setting up house, and letting his daughter decorate her room - as well as help him select everything from bathroom towels to more cookware for the larger kitchen - made the spacious new apartment feel more like the cozy home he wanted to create. 

He was also getting to know her. Sure, Olivia was only six years old, but she was already bubbling over with personality, and Marco wanted to  _ understand _ her, inside and out. He learned her clothing sizes, what characters and shows she liked and which she didn't, and her favorite foods, colors, and the names of her friends. He might never have the chance to be as permanent a presence in her life as Krista or even Ymir, but that didn't mean he couldn't be a good one. 

Keeping pace with her as she bounded down the sidewalk in front of a row of brightly lit shops, Marco smiled. She turned to look back at him with nothing but joy in her face, a small shopping bag in her hands to match a pair of larger ones in Marco’s. The winter sky was only beginning to take on a border of violet at the edges of the horizon, but already they'd had an adventure of a day. 

Through most of the heart of town they walked, only catching the train if they needed to go much farther than a few blocks. In their wandering, they were often stopped by strangers who spied Olivia, offering her some small treat or a few sweet words, as people were wont to do with children her age. Marco had become accustomed to having old women stop him on the street to ask him about her, so when he felt the tug of another person trying the capture his attention as he watched Olivia toss a penny to make a wish in a half-frozen fountain, he felt no cause for alarm.

Until he saw the stranger's face.

“Don't talk to people very often, do you?” they demanded of him. Marco felt his stomach drop; it was the same person who had taken his attention by force just blocks from his building, a few weeks prior. Surprised and alarmed, Marco shook his head.

“Excuse me?” 

The stranger poked their finger hard into his shoulder, batting dark, unruly hair from their face with the opposite hand. Marco still couldn't tell if he was being accosted by a man or a woman, but he didn't feel like asking. His only thought was to grab Olivia and get away from them, but they grabbed him by the sleeve once again. 

“That building. You're still living there, aren't you? Keeping your child there, too. I tried to tell you before. It's not--”

“Alright, thank you,” Marco cut in, trying not to say what he truly wanted to. “Have a nice day.” He walked over to Olivia to take hold of her hand, only to find the stranger a few steps behind him.

“You’ll regret ignoring my warnings, soon enough.”

“Why do you care so much about where I live?” Marco asked sharply, losing what little patience he had for the strange person. “We don't even know one another!” 

The stranger laughed, an unsettling sound. “When a building is infested with vermin, it's everyone’s concern.”

“That building belongs to a good friend of mine,” Marco argued, “and wouldn't have let me rent it from him if it had bugs or rats.” He glared in the wanderer’s direction, finding himself legitimately offended at their implication about Theo’s property. They shook their head, clearly growing impatient.

“It’s something much, much worse,” they warned, far too dramatically. “You should take your daughter and run by daylight, so the night doesn't catch you unprepared.”

Marco dragged his hand down his face, growing weary at the feeling of Olivia tugging nervously at his hand while he tried to ward off the unknown person speaking to them and avoid the stares of the people around them. His medical training surfaced to remind him that the other person might be mentally ill, lost, sick, or confused. But it didn't make their unsolicited advice any less annoying. He looked the stranger in the eye, speaking clearly. 

“Look, I don't know you, and I don't know why you're so fixated on this, but if there's something you need, I'm a nurse, and I can refer you to a great group of doctors. Otherwise, your problem with my apartment and whatever you think is in my building isn't my concern, and I'd appreciate if you'd leave me alone and stop scaring my child.”

"It's not what's  _ inside _ that building that should scare you, boy." The stranger shuddered. "It's what lingers  _ atop _ it.”

At that, Marco gave up trying to reason with them, and turned to lead Oliva the other way. In his struggle to get her moving, Marco noticed that the transient person was also following them, mumbling more nonsense about the building and  _ mortal peril  _ as they walked. When they didn't stop their pursuit, even through a passing throng of tourists, Marco began to worry. 

Nearly running, he hustled Olivia along, finally scooping her up and carrying her down the stairs toward the train platform. Clutching her in one hand, Marco dug their pass cards from his wallet with the other, all while glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to see if the stranger -  _ stalker _ \- was still behind them. Luckily, they only followed as far as the top of the stairs before they seemed to lose interest in berating Marco, and he boarded the first open car he saw, gladly taking what looked like the last available bench seat. 

Never had Marco been quite as grateful for the closing of the train doors behind him.

As Olivia curled into his side, eyes heavy from their long day, Marco entertained the same thoughts he'd had too many times to number by then. Was he doing right by her? Keeping her safe? Had he changed enough, grown up enough to be the parent she needed him to be? True, everything that he did, he did for her - but was he making the right choices? 

As his building came into view in the distance, he realized he couldn't be sure. Maybe that was enough of an answer, really. No one could ever know they were raising their child correctly, because what did that even  _ mean,  _ really? He was fairly certain Krista had her own ideas about it, and no matter how he tried, he would never fit into those rigid lines. At least not perfectly. But maybe Olivia didn't need perfection from him. If Krista had been right about anything, maybe it was that all Olivia needed was Marco’s presence in her life. That was something, for better or for worse, he was determined to always be able to offer her.

Though his new home was visible from nearly any point in the city, Sina was still a fairly large place, and making its way through the twists and turns that led to the many stops between the heart of town and the Braus building, the train took its time that evening. Marco watched the scenery speed past out the window, resting his temple against it. In the fading light of early evening, he could almost see what looked something moving atop his building. There were rails and poles that could have been shaking in the wind, but this looked more deliberate, more focused. 

It looked like something  _ alive.  _

But it was late, it was windy, and his eyes were tired. He closed them as he stroked Olivia’s hair behind her ear, soothing both of them to sleep, just until the bell rang for their stop. 

\--

Although he was firmly insistent to Olivia that there was nothing to be frightened of in or around his new home on the Braus building’s top floor, there were many nights that Marco found  _ himself _ in need of a reminder. With so many floors below, and so much wind to rattle the windows and railings above, the apartment was noisy, and there wasn't always an obvious source of the sounds that banged and bumped at all hours. Marco slept with a fan on, left his TV playing while he was home alone, spoke to friends and family on speakerphone for nearly every conversation -  _ anything _ to drown out the persistent background noise that threatened to frighten him if he didn't think better of it. 

He always  _ did _ think better of it, though. At least… most of the time. 

Occasionally the sounds were too sudden and sharp to ignore. Sometimes they happened in the middle of the night, when no human being should have even been awake, much less clamoring against the walls of the building. 

And once in awhile, they came from right outside his apartment door. 

The quiet ding of an elevator, the fumbling of keys - Marco was on edge even before the muted knock at his door rattled the relative silence in the apartment. It was a Friday evening, and he'd only been home from work for an hour, and with no plans to see Olivia or Krista until the following weekend - and his cell phone was dead, with no hurried plans to recharge it right away - he wasn't expecting visitors. 

He moved for the door, angling his body sideways as he opened it to a narrow crack, just in case. A familiar face smiled tiredly back at him as he whispered a cautious greeting. He unchained the door and opened it fully.

“Oh, Theo!” Marco laughed, relieved. “Sorry, wasn't expecting company. Krista has the only duplicate of my key, so you scared me a little.”

“Sorry.” Theo winced. “Just thought I’d drop by and check on you. I couldn't get ahold of you earlier, otherwise I’d have just called.” He indicated a pair of pizza boxes, tucked between his arm and side. “Hungry?”

Marco nodded, grinning. “Only always.”

“This is from Saro’s.” Theo held up the top pizza box and lifted the corner to offer Marco a peek. “That alright?”

“It's hot food.” Marco laughed, stepping backward out of the doorway. “C’mon in.”

\--

“So, getting settled in?” Theo passed an open pizza box across the floor to Marco as they settled in the living room. Marco had a dining room table and chairs, but there was something comforting and casual in Theo’s presence that made sprawling barefoot across the floor in front of the television feel much more appropriate. Marco grabbed a slice of pizza, folded it, and took a bite, nodding while he paused before responding to chew.

“Mostly, yeah. Don't get me wrong, I like it here. Olivia  _ loves _ it.” Marco glanced down at his hand, at the bracelet clinging to his wrist. He smiled. “But I guess any time you move things are weird for a while.”

“This place is admittedly weirder than most,” Theo conceded. “But what weirdness in particular are we referring to?” 

“I mean, I'm not used to living half a million feet up.” Marco laughed. “So there's that. And a few people I keep running into, like they're just stalking around the building or something. Do you know the little creepy guy that hangs out in the lobby, or the… person, that likes to scream about this building being a dangerous menace in the streets?”

Theo knowingly laughed. “The person spouting the doom and gloom, I'm not sure about. But the lobby guy - that's Levi. He's definitely creepy - seems to like staring at people, more than anything. Harmless, though. He must be a resident, as often as I see him around.”

“So that's not new?”

“Not even close. He's been hanging around since I was a kid.”

“Really?” Marco blinked, confused. “The guy doesn't look that old. Hell, he doesn't look any older than you.”

Theo reached between them for another slice of pizza. “Never has. It's like he doesn't age. Lucky bastard.”

“Probably doesn't have kids.” Marco huffed. “Or a significant other. Or an ex.” He wiped his hands and tossed his crumpled napkin in the direction of the near-empty pizza box. Theo swallowed a mouthful of food, then cleared his throat, sitting up a little taller.

“You, uh… You wanna talk about that, or?”

Marco shrugged, looking down and away. “I mean, it's a mess, but it always has been. You know that.”

“Seems messier, lately,” Theo pointed out. He gave Marco a moment before prompting, “Something happen?”

“Not exactly, no. I mean, not super recently. Just…” Marco scrubbed his face with both hands, trying to pinpoint exactly what was bothering him most, so he wouldn't end up wasting Theo’s entire evening. “Krista’s dating my cousin. I don't remember if I told you that. But now the two of them have moved in together, and Olivia lives with them. It's just. It sucks seeing Ymir get to do what I never could.”

“Which is?” 

“Be a parent, and a partner, at the same time.” Marco let his shoulders fall forward. He had hoped putting his feelings into words would take some of the weight from his chest, but it only pulled at his heart from a different angle. 

Across from him, Theo nodded thoughtfully. “You still have feelings for Krista?” Marco shook his head. 

“No. Well, not  _ romantic _ feelings, exactly. I guess I'm just hung up on what I thought we were gonna be. What I thought we  _ should _ be.” He looked back at Theo, hoping he had made his point, but Theo was watching him with a slate-blank expression, waiting for him to continue. Marco drew a stuttering breath, sighing as he let the rest fall from him like leaves from a shaken tree. “I wanted a family with Krista. I just wanted a  _ family.  _ Growing up, I had a big, traditional family. So that's what I wanted. It's what I thought I was gonna have, what I was  _ supposed _ to have.”

“And I'm guessing Krista didn't want that?” Theo asked. Marco snagged the inside of one lip between his teeth and bit down, anxious.

“Not really. Not like I did. We fought about it constantly, and I - I was such an ass to her when we were younger, Theo.”

“I can't imagine you being an ass to anyone, honestly,” Theo said, reaching across the space between them to pat Marco’s shoulders. Though his touch was light and reassuring, Marco couldn't help recoiling from it, upset and disgusted with himself, embarrassed by the topic at hand. Theo didn't push, didn't move after him; he let his hand fall to his side again and sat up, facing Marco fully, calmly. “But you know yourself better than I do. So when you say ‘an ass’, what do you mean, exactly?”

“I was just so… I was so  _ young.  _ I was scared and confused and stupid, but we were  _ both _ young when Krista got pregnant. And I had so many ideas about parenthood and family should look like, and I forced them on her.” Marco sucked in a breath, painful against the tightness in his chest. He'd never spoken at length to anyone about the things he'd been through with Krista - the things he'd  _ put _ her through - and hearing it in his own voice only made him feel worse about it. He was suddenly thankful for never having had anyone to discuss it with, but he made himself keep talking. Theo was interested, he cared, and he was only trying to help. 

“I never asked her what  _ she _ wanted, because I just didn't  _ care.  _ I was a selfish, controlling little prick, back then. And she did what she should have, and she put me out on my ass for it.”

At that Theo nodded, his voice more edged with the laughter of friendship than the neutrality of a counselor. “Well that's understandable, then.”

Marco nodded. “More than. But I was so upset. I was so pissed - I cut ties with her entire family, I stopped talking to Krista and even stopped seeing  _ Olivia _ for a little while, because I got it in my head that if she didn't want to be my wife and raise our daughter together, then I didn't want any part of  _ either _ of them.” For a moment, Marco’s mouth was too dry to continue talking. He swallowed once, then twice more before he was finally able to continue. “I was really, really stupid.”

Theo didn't move, didn't show any trace of agreement or argument as he spoke, quiet and calm. “Things seem to have changed.” 

“They have,” Marco assured him, “but it took way too long. I threw myself into nursing school and basically missed all of Olivia’s milestones as a baby. I cracked when Krista  _ texted _ me a video of her walking.” He laid back, staring at the ceiling, talking to it rather than to Theo for a few minutes. “I was so selfish I missed my baby’s  _ first steps.” _

“We all make mistakes.” Theo replied, and the casual tone of his voice turned Marco’s stomach. He knew it was all something Theo had heard before from clients, but Marco couldn't simply write his bad choices off as common mistakes. He looked back at Theo, not bothering to sit up.

“Yeah, well, I made too many. After I got my degree, I started trying to fix things. Getting Krista to trust me again was the biggest thing I had to do, and I'm still not done.”

He laid an arm across his eyes and closed them, just breathing for a few seconds. Beside him, he could hear Theo shifting, scooting against the carpet as he did. When Marco lifted his arm again to peek out from beneath it, Theo was turned to face him straight on, looking back at him patiently. On reflex, Marco propped himself up on his hands and offered a mumbled apology, but Theo waited until he was settled again and comfortable to say anything.

“You genuinely care about your daughter, Marco. I can see that. I'm sure Krista can, too.”

Maroc nodded. “I think she can too. But she's seen some really ugly parts of me, too. Things got bad again after she ended up with my cousin. They met at work. Krista was working for Ymir, and they started seeing each other while I was still hung up on trying to get her back. I threw a fit, and then it was like we were back to square one. It's been hell trying to convince her that Marco the grown man is different than Marco the stupid, selfish teenage boy. Especially when I still  _ feel _ that way once in a while.” 

“All you can do is continue to work toward that goal, the way you are now. She’ll see it in time.” Theo smiled. “Both of you will.”

Marco nodded, hopeful that Theo might be right. He usually was. “Time is what I worry about, I guess. With Olivia, I mean. I can't afford to miss any more time, with her.” He thumbed at the corner of his eyes, trying to pretend they were only itching. “Sorry.  _ God, _ I do this to you every time we talk lately. You’d be smart to stop talking to me altogether.”

“You know I don't mind.” Theo reassured him with a squeeze of his shoulder. “Besides, after dropping in on you like this, the least I can do is offer you a free session.”

“The free food was more than enough, doc.” Marco smiled, and for the first time that evening, it felt effortless. “But thanks, Theo. Really.”

\--

After some decidedly lighter topics of conversation had eased Marco’s mind and shoulders, he decided that having Theo there might be an opportunity to satisfy his curiosity about a few things. Returning from the kitchen with a refilled glass of soda for each of them, he motioned with a wide sweep toward the whole of the living room. 

“So how’d you come into this place? I’m assuming you weren't just born a landlord.”

Theo bit his lip thoughtfully and shrugged. “I mean, in a way I was, I guess. My mom had the place before me, and she left it to me when she died. Just sort of fell into my lap.”

“So did she live here, before?” Marco asked. Theo smiled, as if at a happy memory. 

“She lived here with some friends, yeah. In this upstairs apartment, actually. Knowing my relatives, they probably thought she was sleeping with all of her roommates, but it was just Con and her that ended up together.”

“Con?”

“Connie, s’what he told us to call him. I guess you could call him my sort-of stepdad. Mom met him when she was pregnant with me. Kind of funny, how it fell into place, when you know the whole story. She’d been hurt a lot, by then, and he could’ve hurt her too. I think common sense would’ve told most people to run, especially after everything she’d been through. She didn’t, though - my mom was a case study in being far too trusting of others.” Theo chuckled, wistful as he reminisced. “Thankfully Con never gave her a reason to regret that. He took care of her - took care of both of us - the best that he could, and we took care of him.” Theo glanced in the direction of the large, sliding glass doors that led to the veranda, smiling sadly. “He loved my mom right up until the minute she died.”

Marco nodded, letting his knee fall to bump against Theo’s. “He still around?”

“Yes and no.” Theo shrugged. “We don’t really  _ see _ each other much, these days. But I know where he is if I need him, and vice versa.”

“That’s good, though. More than a lot of people have, you know?”

Theo nodded. “My life is  _ definitely _ more than a lot of people have.”

“So what about the gargoyles?” Marco inquired. “Your stepdad bring those too?”

“They were a package deal, yeah,” Theo replied, barely stifling a chuckle. “I grew up with them too.”

“And  _ you _ turned out fine.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Theo looked back at Marco. “Meaning?”

Marco sighed. “Krista is worried about Olivia.”

“From being around statues?” Theo chuckled. “Why?”

“She loves them. I mean, it's almost… unnatural.” Marco nervously laughed. He dreaded few things more than sharing his small, broken family’s inner conflicts with anyone, especially when he'd already done so much sharing that night, and especially when those conflicts were over  _ stone statues. _ “She seems to be convinced that they're alive, or something, and she tells Krista all these ridiculous stories, and of course Krista blames me for all of it.” Marco screwed his eyes shut and shook his head hard. “Sorry, I just think it’s kind of ridiculous. I mean, Ollie’s a kid. She’s got an active imagination. That’s normal, right?”

“It is,” Theo assured him. “And besides, it may turn out to serve her well. Imagination can sometimes make real life a little less scary.”

\--

With stomachs full of pizza and the hours of the night slipping by, Marco and Theo’s conversation eventually lulled to a stop, leaving them in comfortable silence while the television flickered in front of them. Marco wasn't one to ask anyone to leave, especially not Theo, and it  _ was _ a weekend. But after a while, he did begin to wonder if they would just spend the rest of the evening lounging in the floor. 

Finally, Theo stirred. 

“Just gonna slip outside for a few minutes before I leave, if you don't mind.”

Marco watched him rise from the floor, stretch, and head toward the sliding doors that lead to the veranda. “Awfully cold for a smoke break, isn't it?” 

Theo grinned. “All the more reason I don't smoke.”

“Why in God’s name are you going outside, up here, at this hour then?” Marco grimaced in the direction of a nearby window, eyeing the lacy patterns of ice spread across the glass. “I'm pretty sure things are completely iced over out there right now.”

Theo nodded in agreement, but reached for the handle of the sliding door to unlock it all the same. “Just feelin’ a little nostalgic after our little chat earlier, so I figured I’d try to get ahold of Con before I miss my chance for the evening. And don’t worry,” he chuckled. “I own the place. If I fall, the liability is all mine.”

\--

As the weekend slipped away, Marco found himself staring out through the glass of those sliding doors more than he ever had. Theo had seemed so at ease walking through them, and it made them and the area that lay just outside feel all the more foreign to Marco. Like someone else's home, he thought. But Olivia certainly had no qualms about visiting it, and Marco knew that in time he would surely grow accustomed to it as well. 

The thought of his daughter brought him warmth. 

Despite what felt like an uphill climb, the weight of his past and its mistakes pulling backward against him as he tried to ascend, Marco valued every minute he got to spend with Olivia. Thinking about Theo’s reassurances, he smiled, hoping his friend was right. Surely in time things would work themselves out with Krista, in whatever way they were meant to. What mattered was that he was part of her life again, and more importantly, part of their daughter’s life. 

While he dreaded the weekend coming to an end, and always grieved the loss of rest that the week brought with it, he looked forward to his next weekend with Olivia. There would surely be a lot for them to do, if she had her say, and just thinking about it exhausted Marco. But he still had a few hours of alone time left before he absolutely  _ had _ to be in bed for work the following morning, and he pondered the options of how he could best use that peace and quiet to relax in preparation for the week ahead.

The silence of his solitude was broken by a series of peculiar sounds.

Bumping, banging, the dull scraping of something like moving furniture or interior construction; they were the kind of noises anyone living in an apartment might expect to hear, but Marco found it odd, hearing them so late at night. It was also a Sunday evening, and when Marco put his ear to the floor, trying to hear the sounds a bit more clearly, he realized that it would likely be impossible. There weren't any residential units for several floors, below his - Theo had told him as much. 

The noises seemed to be coming from nowhere. 

It was the kind of thing Olivia was always going on about, insisting that she could see and hear magical, mystical things in the foggy darkness that surrounded the apartment at night. While many children made up stories of burglars or criminals, Olivia seemed fixated on the bumps in the night being caused by monsters, in particular the stone monsters that sat above their heads on the roof. It fell to Marco to assure her that that wasn't the case. 

But Olivia wasn't there. She wasn't the one hearing noises, seeing shadows, trying to convince Marco that there was something or someone outside. It was entirely Marco’s senses, being deceived by tricks of light, or his worn out nerves, or  _ something, _ making him feel a rising panic. He  _ knew _ there was no reason to worry; everything logical in his mind scoffed at the fear beginning to seize him. But it did not subside. When the echoes and dull thumps sharpened into what sounded like voices and heavy footsteps, Marco swallowed and realized that his throat had gone dry. 

The sounds weren't coming from below him. They were coming from above. 

Grabbing for his phone, Marco dialed Theo’s number, his chest tightening with every ring. When the call rolled over to Theo’s voicemail, Marco all but screamed into the receiver.

“Theo, call me back! Seriously man, this is an emergency!” Marco slammed the phone and the fist he clenched it in onto the countertop, raking a hand roughly through his hair as he desperately tried to gather his thoughts. Who else could he call? Few of his relatives even knew that he'd moved, and none of them knew anything about the apartment. Even fewer of his friends would be of any assistance, and he found himself scrolling blindly through his contacts, unsure what to even tell someone, if he did call them. 

On instinct, he called the only person he knew would answer, the only person other than Theo who knew anything about where he lived, and just how eerie the place could be. 

On the other end of the line, Krista picked up with a sleepy greeting. 

“Kris, there's something outside the apartment.”

“Outs--  _ what?!”  _ Marco could hear the obvious annoyance in her tone. “Marco, you sound like Ollie, right now. Knock it off.”

“I'm serious, Krista!” He hissed. “I can hear something. I’m pretty sure I even  _ saw _ something.  _ Someone.” _

“Then call the police.” Krista replied shortly. 

Marco curled fingers into his own hair and tugged, increasingly frantic. “What am I even supposed to  _ tell _ them?!”

“Exactly what you're telling me.”

“They aren't gonna  _ believe _ me, Krista.”

“Then what makes you think I'm going to?” Krista snapped. She must have realized how sharp her tone had become as soon as she spoke; she sighed and paused for a moment, her voice softer as she continued. “Just calm down, Marco. You've got that big veranda thing, just go take a look for yourself. Nothing could be up there unless it has wings or a damned grappling hook. Unless you're scared of bats or birds, I think you'll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Marco said after a moment, trying to save face - trying to believe her. “Thanks.”

With his phone tossed aside again, Marco stood still, listening. The sounds continued, muffled, indiscernible speech, clattering, scraping, all from what had to be the rooftop. Images of people scaling the building on rusty service ladders or climbing out lower story windows to access the roof cycled through his mind, faster than he could let his own logic dispute them. 

Someone had to be up there, and he had to find out who. If he could just catch a glimpse of them, he'd have something solid to share with the authorities, if he needed to. And obviously, if there were people on his roof after nightfall, he  _ needed _ to. 

Gathering his courage and moving before he could think better of it, Marco charged for the sliding glass door, stopping almost comedically short to ensure he opened it carefully, quietly. The sounds stopped as soon as the door began to slide, but that only served to assure him that they were coming from outside. 

And whoever was there, knew he was too. 

A quick glance in either direction revealed nothing, and Marco edged through the door, just enough to peer upward, toward the parapet. Though he could see nothing and no one immediately, a shuffling sound gave his chest a jolt, stilling his steps until it ceased again. Leaving the door open, Marco stepped further out, moving along the wall, inches at a time. Only when the sound of murmuring voices returned did he venture out from there, just trying to catch sight of whoever was invading his home. 

Now he knew that they were there, he just needed enough of an idea of  _ who they were _ to see that they were properly dealt with. 

When Marco saw the straight lines and angles of the buildings architecture give way to smooth, rounded curves, his heart leapt to his throat for a moment, but he swallowed it back down when he realized it was only the top of one of the stone gargoyles, remarkably lifelike, in the moonlight. In his anxious state, it almost appeared that the statue's wings were being acted upon by the wind, giving against it like they might if they were truly flesh, thin and taut. Marco chuckled at the thought, hoping the humor would soothe his nerves. 

But then, the gargoyle turned its head, and fixed its eyes on him.

Marco opened his mouth to scream, but the sound stuck in his throat. His eyes went wide as the statue - now a living, moving  _ monster _ \- grinned wickedly and ran for the edge of the parapet, diving off of it and landing in front of him with a resonating thump, heavy enough to shake the stone they stood on.

“Busted,” the beast thundered. Its voice was human, and it sounded amused, but it had an edge of roughness that only served to make it more terrifying. It approached Marco, its clawed, strangely marked feet thudding against the stone as it walked. “It's the new guy!”

“Theo wasn't kidding about this guy,” said a snickering voice, drawing closer as another animate monster crawled down the wall, like a child descending from a climbed tree. Smaller and without wings, it was no less terrifying as it approached Marco, an amused look tugging at its features. “Calm down, fella.”

From either side, the statues Marco had seen standing still against the sunlight moved toward him, and his legs weakened beneath him. Fumbling backward, Marco felt for the open doorway, only realizing how far he’d wandered from it when his hands came to rest on the rough brick of the wall instead. Desperately grabbing for anything that he might use to protect himself, he found only chipping stone, grabbing shards of it and flinging it out toward the gargoyles as they continued moving toward him. 

A few yards away, the first beast laughed, alarmingly casual in its tone.

“Not very friendly, is he?”

From atop the parapet’s steepled middle point, a massive shadow moved in the moonlight, and the largest gargoyle came down on spread wings. Marco swallowed, barely able to breathe; the monster’s wings spanned at least fifteen feet, lines like the jagged veins of a leaf stretching all the way to their ends. It landed soundlessly, tucking its massive wings behind its back as it stood upright, taller than any of the others by at least half a foot. 

“Yes, you’d think he'd never  _ spoken _ to a gargoyle before,” it mused flatly. “His loss, really.”

The first two gargoyles approached the third to crowd around Marco where he was scrambling uselessly backward, watching him with amusement in their eyes. The briefest thought crossed Marco’s mind; those eyes were shockingly human. But he couldn't hold onto the thought long enough for his brain to do anything with it. From behind the three monsters watching him came a fourth, the others parting to let it pass.

“Cowering,” it cooed, with a smooth, steady voice that belied its fearsome appearance. Slender and sharp at its every angle, its skin shone with shades of brown, darkest at its clawed hands and feet. It looked down at Marco, nose upturned, and only then did he notice the intricate swirl pattern emanating from its chin, running down its neck and over its collarbone, more elaborate that it had seemed in stone. It was just another feature that set it apart from anything Marco had ever seen, even in his nightmares, and reminded Marco that what he was looking at - what was looking down at him - was nothing he'd ever encountered before. 

The gargoyle sneered, watching Marco quiver. “It's all men know how to do, really. I suppose it's not his fault. One can't help being what they are. Tell me - what is your name, human?” When Marco couldn't find his voice fast enough to suit the monster, it moved as if to kick him, a quick turn at the hips that scared Marco’s eyes closed. At the hard slam backward against the stone behind him that followed and robbed him of his breath, Marco opened his eyes again to see what he could barely feel, in his startled state. A clawed foot held him in place, pinned against the wall, the living statue looking down at him as it all but growled,  _ “Speak!” _

“M-Marco!” Spitting his own name out like an apology, Marco gasped for breath afterward, trying to steady himself. “My name is Marco.” Frozen, he watched the creatures in front of him study him, felt the claws that pushed him back against the wall retract from his chest as the beast closest to him slowly let its foot fall away. Fingers flying up on instinct to feel for injuries his shocked senses may not have been able to perceive, Marco found himself unhurt, only crowded and overwhelmed by the monsters around him. They didn't seem intent on killing him, at least for the moment. Pushing himself up the wall just slightly, he drew in as much of a breath as he could, and tried to sound like he wasn't sick with fear. Maybe if he spoke to them, he could escape. Maybe he could survive this. Maybe he could  _ wake up.  _

“Do… Do  _ you _ have a name?” he ventured, speaking primarily to the beast that had pinned him to the wall only a moment before. Nothing about the scene playing out around him made any sense, so he really had nothing to lose. To its credit, the monster did not dismiss him. Instead, it stayed where it stood, looking down at him as it laughed.

“I have several. But if you must address me, you may call me Jean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought, and share the update! Thank you all for returning after my extended hiatus. I hope you found this worth the wait!
> 
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	3. Sardonyx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ["We are monsters, he said, "That is all you need remember."]

“Jean,” Marco murmured, trying to get his mouth around the name. “Jean, that's… That's nice.”

He could scarcely believe what was happening, that he was having a conversation with what had been a figure of stone not an hour before. The statue had a voice, had expressions, had a dark personality that frightened Marco - and it had a name. It looked back at him - down upon him - with narrowed eyes. With his head tilted up, Marco could see the intricate, scrolling markings that spiraled from the point of its chin, down its -  _ his _ \- neck and faded across the tops of his shoulders and chest. Not a tattoo, surely, but some kind of marking all the same, more intimidating than it had any right to be. 

“You're all, uh, you're men, then? All of you?” Marco stammered. Perhaps if he could use the correct words, use their names or anything that might make them more comfortable with him, they'd be more likely to leave him be, once he was able to get back inside. He called upon his crisis training to talk his way through the situation, but to say it wasn't a textbook crisis would have been a glaring understatement. 

The creature calling himself Jean quirked an eyebrow, just slightly. “We are not men. Surely you can see that.” He extended his wings, massive in their span, yards to either side of him. They were bat-like, stretched taut for a moment before he brought them down again, the breeze from the motion nearly knocking Marco back against the wall again. Crossing his arms, he looked satisfied at having made his point. Marco shook his head, a concerted effort, given how much his every muscle resisted movement. 

“I mean, are you male?” he clarified, gesturing loosely to himself as an example. “Male or female, you know? You're male, all of you?” From their masculine voices and what Marco could see of them, the creatures did not seem to have any markers of femininity; short, loosely belted pants that looked to be made of burlap cloth covered where they might have had obvious indicators of sex, but their bare chests were all flat, broader than their waists and boxy hips. He glanced around at the others, still looking back at him blankly. 

Jean replied for them. “We are monsters,” he said. “That is all you need remember.” He stepped closer to Marco again, his presence looming, threatening despite his relatively unimpressive height. He flashed a grin, not much more than a lopsided smirk, but it was enough to bare a few sharp, white teeth, catching Marco’s breath in his throat. Jean backed away again, as if turning the conversation over to the others. 

The smallest gargoyle approached Marco for what might have been the fifth time that night, this time patting his chest with a smile that split his face from ear to pointed ear. “You can call me Connie.”

Marco’s mouth fell open before he could stop himself. “Connie? Like… You're  _ the _ Connie? Theo’s  _ stepdad,  _ Connie?” Looking him up and down, Marco could hardly reconcile the image of Theo’s stepfather figure with the creature standing in front of him. With rough patches on his back where the others had wings, and a mark like Jean’s radiating out from the middle of his stomach, Connie would have been peculiar to look at even without his mottled, grey-green skin. But something about the way he smiled harkened back to Theo’s grin, wide and toothy and genuine, and Marco blinked, thoroughly stunned. 

“He called me his  _ stepdad?” _ Connie asked, and the emotion in his voice was startling, so soft and abundant and  _ human. _ He wiped at his eyes, though Marco could see no tears there. “That's so cute.  _ God, _ I love that kid.” 

A few yards away, the larger, broad-chested beast laughed. “He's not a kid anymore, Con.”

“Hasn't been for a while, now,” the tallest creature agreed. 

“Yeah, I know, but it seems like five minutes ago, doesn't it?” Connie shook his head, grinning widely. “My  _ step kid, _ I swear...”

“How, uh… How did you all come to know Theo?” Marco asked. He wasn't sure how to say all that needed to be said, but since the gargoyles seemed to like talking so much, he figured he could at least attempt to get a few answers out of them. “Why are you here?”

“We just happened upon this place, traveling.” 

“Then Con hooked up with Sasha and we stayed for a while.”

Marco blinked. “Sasha - is that Theo’s mother’s name?” Theo’s stepfather - the man who had taken such wonderful care of him and his mother - had been a stone monster? Marco dug his nails into the palm of his own hand, wondering if the twinge of pain might wake him from a dream. 

It didn't.

“It was, yeah,” Connie answered him before anyone else could. “She was a great gal. And Theo’s a great kid.”

The other two, larger gargoyles chuckled. “He's  _ not _ a--”

“I know, I know, I heard you the first time, Reiner,” Connie grumbled. His face changed suddenly, and he turned toward Marco again, motioning back to the blue, broad-chested gargoyle. “That's Reiner, by the way.”

Reiner waved in response to being named, seemingly as friendly as Connie. In the stronger light near his glass door, Marco could see that Reiner’s skin was not darkened by the evening light, but rather was truly a dull, cornflower blue, like worn, pebbled leather. Reiner moved toward Marco and Connie in a surge forward, jamming his hand out in Marco’s direction. Unlike his uniquely marked bare feet and legs, Reiner’s massive hand was plain and dark, more resembling the stone it had been hours before, down to the rocky, hooked claws. Marco took and shook it, despite his fears, more afraid  _ not _ to. 

Behind them, the tallest gargoyle approached, also extending a large, clawed hand to Marco, though far more gracefully. Everything about him was more pulled together than his cohort, dark, almost violet skin and black hair that looked like it had been carefully parted. He wore his swirl-scrolled wings like a cloak, the ends sweeping the ground behind him as he approached Marco to greet him formally. His voice was low and quiet, a stark contrast to his enormous size. “My name is Bertholdt.”  

“Marco,” he replied, shaking Bertholdt’s hand, extending the response to Reiner as well, by way of a glance. He tried to hide his anxiety, but he was certain he was failing. “I'm a friend of Theo’s, I, uh… I live here, I guess. For now.”

“You  _ guess?”  _ Jean huffed, shaking his head. “Humans.”

Connie rolled his eyes, elbowing Marco to capture his attention again. “Don't mind him, he's kind of an asshole.”

The look Jean gave him was razor-sharp, as terrifying as his acidic tone. “Watch your tongue, Connie.”

“Can't, chief, it's too short. I've tried - look.” Connie stuck his tongue out in Jean’s direction, eyes crossed. Jean heaved a sigh like a person long since tired of another, and for a moment, Marco wondered just how many times the two of them had had that exact exchange. He didn't dwell on the thought; Jean didn't give him a chance. 

He was stepping into Marco’s space a second later, looking him up and down.

“How long are you planning to occupy this place?”

“I don't know. I wasn't exactly informed of you already living here, so that definitely changed things a bit.”

Reiner shrugged, stretching. “It's alright, there's plenty of room for all of us.”

Marco swallowed, barely audible as he replied, “Not the way I see it.”

“Watch your tone, human. You are only alive by virtue of your friendship with Theodore.” He crossed the veranda, heading back to the wall, sinking claws into the stone like a cat preparing to climb a tree. He looked back at Marco sourly. “We don't permit others here unless they have his blessing.”

“It just would've been nice to know beforehand,” Marco replied, despite the fact that Jean didn't linger to hear him. He was already atop the parapet, out of sight but far from out of Marco’s frightened, overwhelmed mind. 

Connie grinned, motioning around him at the others, all still smiling in the wake of Jean’s huffy exit. “Well, now you know!” 

Marco nodded, not bothering to hide how ingenuine it was. “Yeah. Now I know.”

\--

Marco spent what must have been hours amongst the gargoyles; before he could so much as wrap his mind around what was happening to him, the darkness that cloaked the city was beginning to fade. 

The absolute terror that had clenched around his heart upon first seeing the creatures moving melted with the passage of time. Connie especially was friendly, talkative, and told Marco stories of Theo as a child, of his first meeting with a person Marco knew only as an adult, and it was all at once engaging and endearing. When Connie wasn't dishing details on Theo and his late mother, Reiner and Bertholdt were interjecting their own memories, of the way the building, humanity and the world had changed since the days Connie fondly reminisced about. 

Jean sat silent, watching the others sourly. There was no obvious explanation for his isolation, when the others were so eager to talk to Marco. But Marco’s fear of him was smoothed over by the jovial nature of the others, and he found himself smiling, even laughing in their presence, despite the fact that he was still nearly numb from the shock of the evening’s events. 

The only thing that made sense to his rattled mind was to keep talking, or rather, to keep the  _ gargoyles _ talking. 

Making conversation was easier than it should have been. There was much to take in, much to process when the people speaking weren't people at all, but animate monsters that both horrified and intrigued Marco to the point that he simply could not walk away from them. Part of him was terrified to, scared to know that the beasts would be lingering just outside his door, hanging around on his veranda while he tried to go about his life or get some rest inside. They were still monsters after all, and unknown entity. He was far too unsettled to make an attempt at sleep. 

But another part of him felt compelled to stay with the creatures until he couldn't any longer, to  _ socialize _ with them. After all, they'd introduced themselves, and had been sharing his living space with him all the while, whether he had been aware of it or not. The gargoyles were practically his neighbors, and there was something so strikingly human about them that Marco couldn't bring himself to walk away from their company. 

Whatever his reasons for staying with them, he was certain he was losing his mind, when by the first hints of morning he found himself dreading what they'd warned him was coming. 

At the first light of morning, they would become stone again. 

It was a surreal concept. Connie informed him of their routine as if he were telling Marco what the weather would be that coming morning, and Marco was left with no choice but to accept it as fact. It didn't make sense to him, medically - how could something survive, if its heart and mind were made of stone half the time? But then again, nothing he'd seen or heard in the previous several hours would have made sense to him just the day before, but he was given no option but to accept the reality of it all. 

The world was different, as the dawn broke that morning. Marco had seen many sunrises in his lifetime, but never had he been so blown away by the sight of one. 

As the first rays of light began to spill over the edge of the horizon, the gargoyles moved back to the parapet, to the places where Marco had first seen them standing. Rolling shoulders and stretching legs, they took their positions, standing just as they had, as statues. For the barest hint of a second they looked strange, almost foolish, miming roaring or clawing at some invisible foe. But then the morning light made its way up the side of Marco’s building, pouring over the walls and iron railings of the entire balcony and veranda before finally landing on the gargoyles themselves. 

And the dream world that Marco found himself living in got even stranger. 

From the ends of their clawed fingers and toes, the gargoyles began to change, their flesh crackling audibly as it was replaced with stone. Like clay, hardening as it dried from the outside inward, the beasts maintained their poses, patiently greeting the dawn with stillness as it made them over, transformed them. There was a final, quiet gasp for breath, and then silence, as everything became stationary. 

The soft, cheerful chirping of birds punctuated the eerie silence left by the sun, robbing the gargoyles of life. They stood as they always had before, in Marco’s perception: statues, and nothing more. But now, Marco knew the truth, knew there was life inside of what had only days before been little more than carved rock, to his eyes. 

He lingered in the frigid early morning air, watching the sun sweep over the veranda, accenting every feature of every statue on the roof. 

It was another half an hour before he finally forced himself inside, fingers frozen and face numb, his mind scarcely able to comprehend everything he had seen. He wasn't sure where to begin, sorting everything out. 

But he knew he needed to make a phone call. 

\--

Marco usually waited to call Theo until he knew it would likely be convenient for him. Given everything he'd just experienced, though, he considered himself a humanitarian for not catching the first bus to the hospital and throwing Theo across his desk. 

He didn't even bother with “hello” in response to Theo’s sleepy greeting.

“Why the hell didn't you tell me about those things?!” Rather than launch into an explanation - or better yet, an apology - Theo remained nonplused, as if Marco had asked him about the building’s plumbing. 

“I am assuming you spoke to some of the other residents, last night.”

“Residents?! Theo, there are monsters living on my fucking roof!”

Theo  _ chuckled.  _ “Well, how did it go?”

“How'd it - How do you think it went, Theo? One of them nearly put me through the wall, and all of them are creepy as--”

“Put you through a wall?” Theo repeated, his tone suddenly less amused. “Who - which one?” 

“Jean!” Marco replied, then shook his head. “Look, it doesn't matter. Those  _ things _ are dangerous, and you let me rent this place from you, knowing full well that they were here! For god's sake, Theo, I have a child!”

“I realize that, and maybe I should've handled this differently, but--”

“You're damn right you should have! You should've told me about them upfront, told me they were alive, so I could've gotten myself out of this situation before I got myself in.”

“So you could've laughed in my face, more likely.”

“It doesn't matter, Theo. Maybe I wouldn't have believed you, but knowing those things lived up here, you didn't have to rent this place to me. You didn’t have to endanger me and my daughter.”

“I'm not endangering either of you,” Theo replied, firmer. “I grew up with those gargoyles and they've never been anything but decent. They would never harm you or Olivia. They're like family to me.”

“Say whatever makes you feel better,” Marco snapped, “but one of your  _ family _ nearly broke my ribs last night. God only knows what they would do to my six-year-old.”

“They're not going to hurt her. Or you,” Theo said flatly. “Look, I'll be by tonight, okay? I'll talk to them, talk to all of you, and we can--”

“Oh no, no no no, Theo. I want  _ out. _ I want my lease voided and thrown in the nearest garbage can, and I want to get the hell out of this place.”

“Marco, listen, you don't have to--”

“Yes I have to!” Marco shouted. “I cannot stay here. I am not living in a fucking fairytale with monsters on my roof, Theo. I didn't sign up for this!”

“No, I know. I  _ know,  _ but - look, I need for you to stay. They need someone there, and I can't --”

“They need -  _ they _ need someone?! You did this - you tricked me, for the monsters?”

“They're not monsters!” Theo hissed. “Look, I admit, I was dishonest. I knew about the gargoyles, and I should have been more upfront. But I needed someone to stay and look after them more regularly than I'm able to, and you needed a place to stay. I figured we could help each other.”

_ “Helping _ would have been telling me that these things existed sometime before today.”

“I agree. I'm sorry, Marco.” Marco had been so prepared for a long fight that Theo’s soft, sincere voice knocked his thoughts askew. He hefted himself onto the kitchen counter, hoping they would settle back into the neat, furious pile he'd sorted them into before picking up the phone. 

They didn't. 

“Well, me too. Look, I can't stay here, Theo. You're going to have to find someone else.” There was a pause, and Marco worried that Theo might have hung up. He couldn't blame him; it wasn't the conversation he wanted to be having, either. But then Theo inhaled sharply, asking the question Marco was already asking himself.

“Where will you go?”

“I don't know. I don't care. I just can't stay here.”

Another pause. When Theo spoke again, his tone was different, loaded with optimism, hope that hit Marco’s ears like a note played sharp. “How about a compromise?”

“Anything other than me leaving here is not an option, Theo.”

“You can leave, whenever you find a new place that suits your needs.” Theo suggested. “But until then, why don't you stay, rent free, and just keep an eye on the place? It’ll give you a place to crash until you find something better, and I'll cover your moving expenses when you go, to make it up to you.”

Marco groaned. “Theo, I'm not  _ asking _ you to--”

“I know you're not. I'm offering,” Theo said quickly. “I really am sorry, Marco. I should've been more honest. I shouldn't have been so selfishly motivated. And I'm sorry that my friends were so rude to you.”

“They… They weren't that bad, I guess.” Marco dragged a hand down his face, scarcely able to believe he was even being out in the position to have to argue his point. “They're just… They're monsters, Theo.”

“They're complicated.” Theo contended quietly. “And I didn't do them or you any service by letting you meet this way. I'm sorry.”

“It's. Yeah, alright.” His chest was tight at the mere thought, but he really didn't have any other options. Marco swallowed, nodding to no one. “I'll stay for a bit until I can find something else, alright? But that's it.”

“Absolutely. Thank you, Marco.” 

“Hey, uh - can you still come by, later? Might make things a little easier. ‘M still not used to these… guys.”

“Yeah, I'll do that,” Theo agreed, his voice noticeably lighter. “Want me to bring dinner?”

Marco sighed, laughing in spite of himself. “How about a bottle of liquor, instead?”

\--

For hours after his phone call with Theo ended, Marco was lost. 

The sun beyond his sliding glass door was climbing higher in the sky, and as it did, shadows fell from the stone monsters that he'd seen moving - that he'd carried on conversations with - only hours before. He raked fingers roughly through his hair, scarcely able to believe the insane narrative that his own life had become in such a short time. 

He needed to make plans. He had more changes on the horizon now, the prospect of moving right back at the top of his list of concerns. There was no easy answer as to what he'd do about finding another place to stay, but the fact that he needed to do it  _ quickly _ was painfully clear. 

Hoping he'd come up with something, he wandered aimlessly around the apartment, picking away at whatever chores he could find that needed doing - anything to busy his hands while his mind spun. Washing dishes and folding laundry, he tried to understand Theo’s motivation for withholding so much from him, tried to come to terms with the fact that he'd questioned so little, trusted so fully, only to end up back at square one. Tidying the apartment, Marco found one of Olivia’s shoes, discarded under a chair in the living room, and returned it to her bedroom, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

What could he do to protect her, now? How could he keep Olivia from knowing that she'd been right, from seeing the monsters she was so fond of? How could he keep the gargoyles secret from Krista and Ymir? 

How could he continue living, even one more day, in an apartment that was haunted by something so disturbingly  _ alive?  _

Marco flopped down backward onto Olivia’s neatly made bed, mentally and physically exhausted, every muscle releasing tension he hadn't had the chance to feel before then. Whatever the answers were that he needed, he would begin searching for them a few hours later. For the moment he closed his eyes, a headache needling its way into his consciousness just before he lost touch with it. 

With a mind swirling and swelling with uncertainty and fear, rest was his only reprieve. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know your thoughts so far!
> 
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